Many Places
by Wandering Minds
Summary: The battle for Middle-Earth, as well as for Legolas and his friends, begins now. A sequel to Wishes of Golden Chain, Elven Dreams and Misadventures, and The Place to Be. TEN chapters!
1. The Alarm

Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! I am, once again, your humble hostess ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy *ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy makes a sweeping bow with her feathered cap*, known as EHAB for short. First of all, I and my partner Phe-chan, who form the writing team Wandering Minds, own nothing created by Tolkien or New Line Cinema or by any other major corporation in existence. Secondly, this is a sequel to "The Place to Be," which is a sequel to "Elven Dreams and Misadventures," which is a sequel to "Wishes of Golden Chain." "Túla Merna Eel" and "Prophecy" are collections of poetry that compliment our stories and that even, if you read them carefully, give hints of what is to come in our furthered plotlines. Thirdly, thanks to all our returning reviewers. We have one question to address, and it is a very good one. Peribebe commented on the fact that Gil-galad's character is, at this point, extremely weak; his wife, Sivi, is always protecting him. This is quite true, but we have two reasons for this that we feel are quite valid. The first is that Gil-galad, as a king of Elves, is completely out of his element in New York City. Peribebe acknowledged this, but it plays a larger role than I think most readers understand. The character seems weak because he is disoriented and ignorant (NOT stupid, but ignorant. There is a difference.). The second is that Sivi is an angelic power. She comes to his rescue all of the time because she can. Gil-galad could show valor and bravery and try to take on Morniwen, but since the latter is a sorceress being backed by a stronger power, it's unlikely that his physical prowess would defeat her. It's much easier for Sivi to simply assert her powerful spirit than it would be for Gil-galad to win a physical battle. However, there ARE times when Gil-galad's battle track record and abilities will come in handy.  
  
Now, then, Chapter One: The Alarm  
  
The alarm clock fell abruptly silent in the middle of a series of prolonged buzzing tones. It was the silence rather than the sound that wakened Orlando Turner. His chief thought was,  
  
"I've done it again."  
  
Surely enough, there was the knife, a small red Swiss Army knife, jammed deep into the top of the clock. Orlando sighed. WHY did he DO that? He had a hunch that it had something to do with his enigmatic past, the time that lay behind the voluminous curtain of amnesia from which he suffered. Well. The bottom line was that he would have to buy himself yet another alarm clock, and this time, he would hang it on the opposite wall where he could not POSSIBLY reach it in order to knife it.  
  
He rose and moved to his day. He hurried; he had to be in the make-up trailer by a certain time, and now he had no clock. He never wore a watch for fear that he would leave it on one night and the next morning knife his own wrist. Generally, he had no trouble making himself wake early and even be somewhat cheerful about it, so that he didn't really know why he should need an alarm clock in the first place. He simply seemed to recall someone explaining to him that having an alarm clock was just something one DID, though who had told him that, when, where, or for what reason, was lost to his memory.  
  
All these thoughts and more crowded in upon his mind, but he pushed them away and in a little while was ready to leave. And in his long day of getting into, running in, fighting in, riding in, and performing other various activities in an Elf-costume, nothing seemed strange to him. He had done these things before, r at least, so his subconscious told him. He had done all of these things and been with all of these people-Viggo Hidalgo and John Sallah and Elijah Dodger. They had all remarked to one another at their meeting, "But I know you!", or "Haven't we already met?", or "Surely we've worked together before -?"  
  
Yet Orlando alone felt that there was someone, someone that had been in this group, someone that he had known, oh, so well, that was no longer there. Still... still, in this hectic day of acting, working, and "striving to find his character" - a character that almost seemed to strive to find him -, nothing was remarkable to him save that early morning episode with the alarm clock.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
On the other side of the world from Mr. Turner, in a small apartment in New York City, an Elven girl - not a strange obsessive fangirl nor a period actress but a real flesh-and-blood Elf - lay shivering under her covers with tear-moistened eyes and wettèd cheeks, pining for a husband that had forgotten even her name. She hugged a pillow to her slight body, trying to force it by her wish to be her Pretty One, but she knew it was only feathers and fabric and not her golden-haired love.  
  
'It's me, she thought in agony. It's me; it has to be. My daddy left, my husband left, and I'm all alone. I'm not meant to belong to anyone. There must be something wrong with ME. God, I'm so lonely, and I'm so scared. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry; I'm sorry. Please bring him home. Please, please - just bring him home.' 


	2. Weaving Loom

Dead alarm clocks... much for the same reason we killed off the lawn mower, actually. Ok, in case it wasn't clear at first, the spell cast upon the group by Morniwen caused the New Yorkers to be changed into elves and everyone from Middle Earth to become human and to forget everything. Now they're all actors. Funny how that works out, eh? And be forewarned...you may need a bucket, there be angst in this here fiction. And much thanks for the pixi stix! *bows* Now everyone dreading upcoming exams, good luck to you! Anyone lucky enough to be spared the misery...that's just not fair. Happy Holidays, Peeps. Now onto the real fic! Ja ne!  
  
~Phe-chan  
  
Chapter 2: Weaving Loom  
  
"Oh, look at this: they're going to make a movie trilogy out of the 'Lord of the Rings' books," Sivi said from over the top of her newspaper and immediately wished she hadn't, for the look on Andrea's pale Elven face went from her now-common sad, pitiful smile to a look of utter misery.  
  
"Oh," she said tonelessly.  
  
"I would guess," Sivi continued hopefully, "that if anything can jar our friends' memories, this will be it. It's going to be huge. There'll be the movies themselves, publicity, toys, and new reading material. They're sure to see some of it."  
  
"You think so?" Andrea asked, looking actually interested in something for the first time in weeks, even months - ever since Legolas had disappeared.  
  
"Why not?" Gil-galad smiled at her. "Melui, your ears are showing," he added and began to arrange Sivi's hair so as to cover the apexes of her leaf-shaped ears.  
  
"Sorry; I'm used to going to The Place for breakfast. No one at The Place cares."  
  
The group of Elves had decided to try another restaurant that morning in order to have a little variety. Megan sighed and swirled the end of a doughnut in her coffee. Even Sarah and Christina were depressed.  
  
"Well, no, this isn't The Place," Jeremie murmured morosely. "This is not The Place to Be."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sam was staring up at an insurmountable precipice which was vomiting fire, brimstone, and sulfur. The back of his head throbbed incessantly - but why? He had struck the front of his head, and that had been ages ago, in the tunnel beneath the Tower of Cirith Ungol. And where was Frodo?  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" he called, looking all about himself, but there was no one there in all the vastness of the plains of Mordor.  
  
"MR. FRODO!" he screamed in desperation.  
  
Suddenly, there was someone with him, but it was not Frodo.  
  
"You were destroyed!" he cried in horror.  
  
"The Halls of Mandos are laid bare before the Master of the Eye. He will break them, and I and my fellows return."  
  
"The Master of the Eye?" Sam breathed, mortified and bewildered.  
  
"The Master of the Eye will be Master of All."  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Sean!" cried a new voice. "Sean!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Sean, are you okay?" Elijah asked him with obvious concern.  
  
Sean Mikë moved his aching head just slightly. Everything was white and clean.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked.  
  
"In the hospital," replied John Sallah, standing uneasily to the left of Sean's bed. "You took a right nasty blow, lad," he laughed, but the laugh was forced.  
  
"From WHAT?" Sean asked incredulously.  
  
"A weaving loom, actually," elaborated Billy Masters. "You were eating lunch on the Rivendell set, you remember? You were sitting in front of that big loom they had on the set, and it fell, and SMACK! You were out."  
  
"Out..." Sean muttered. "Yes, something's trying to get out because... because something's trying to get in."  
  
His friends looked at one another in uncomfortable, confused silence until John Sallah repeated with another nervous laugh,  
  
"A right nasty blow." 


	3. Baiting

So everyone knows, three years pass between chapters two and three. Just so everyone knows...yeah.  
  
~Phe-chan  
  
Chapter Three: Baiting  
  
Gil-galad woke alone, disturbed by a faint sound that he could not place. The light in the bathroom was on, and he heard Sivi running water. After a moment, the noise stopped, the light went out, and the door swung open. Looking even paler than usual, Sivi crossed to the bed and slid under the covers beside her husband.  
  
"Melui, are you alright?" he asked, putting his arm around her as she lay on her side, facing away from him.  
  
"I am. Just a little morning sickness; that's all," she said quietly.  
  
"Morning sickness? What is that?" Gil-galad asked curiously.  
  
Morning was his favourite time of the time of the day; it didn't seem right that there should be an illness associated with it. Besides, could they, as Elves, be ill?  
  
"It's not a traditional disease like the ones that we can't get," Sivi explained, as if she had read his mind. Knowing his wife, she probably had. "It's - it's a girls-only sickness, okay, Love? Don't worry."  
  
"Girls only?" he queried.  
  
"You don't know much about women, do you?" Sivi sighed. True, he couldn't really be expected to, being a warrior king. "Love, I'm pregnant."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I'm with child."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Lower your voice, or you'll wake the neighbours," Sivi warned.  
  
"Why didn't you - I mean, how long have you known -"  
  
"Stay, stay, softly, be still," Sivi insisted.  
  
They sat up together, and he held her to himself as if she were made of glass, his long hand resting gingerly on the folds of her white gown just over her stomach.  
  
"I'm a couple of months along," Sivi murmured. "I hadn't told you yet because I wasn't sure. I - had to talk to my mother about it first. I knew that she would be able to tell me."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean," Gil-galad continued, flustered, "is it a - a daughter or a son? Do you know that yet? I mean, I know that you aren't supposed to know until it's born, but your mother, could she tell you?"  
  
"Actually, this world's science makes it possible to know a few months before the child is born, but I'm not that far along. Yet. However, as you said, my mother, knowing things the way she does, did, in fact, get around that problem," Sivi said with a small smile.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Sivi murmured, leaning back against her husband and closing her eyes.  
  
"Your mother told you whether it was male or female, did she not?"  
  
"She did," Sivi agreed easily, enjoying this immensely.  
  
"What did she say?" Gil-galad asked persistently.  
  
"Mother? Lots of things," Sivi answered, baiting him for all she was worth.  
  
"Is it male or female?" he pressed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The child, the child! What are you about, woman?"  
  
Sivi laughed aloud.  
  
"It's male, it's male, but you are singularly amusing to tease."  
  
"Wayward wretch," Gil-galad growled, shaking her VERY gently.  
  
"O, but I am. I AM," Sivi chuckled wickedly. "However, yes, the child is a son. It's what all mothers do, Love; it's tradition."  
  
"For once, I'd almost say 'Decorum be hanged,' but alright, lass, if it's tradition," he said in a falsely gruff tone of voice. "Im mel le, Melui nin."  
  
"I love you, too," Sivi whispered, snuggling in his protective embrace.  
  
Gil-galad was silent for a long while. At last he said,  
  
"So... do we name him now, or when he is born?"  
  
"We can do either," she responded. "If you want to name him now, we can do that."  
  
"Do you have any ideas?" Gil-galad asked.  
  
"Well, Mother liked 'Cuiviesúl.'"  
  
"Cuiviesúl? 'Awakening wind'?" Gil-galad said slowly, as if picturing the little boy in his mind.  
  
"Because it's my first child, it's the awakening, and my father is Manwë Súlimo-"  
  
"Lord of the Breath of Arda," Gil-galad nodded. "Cuiviesúl, I see. My son is the grandchild of Manwë and Varda," he added wonderingly. "By the way, when DID you see your mother?"  
  
"Last night in a dream, the way that I used to meet with you. Where do you think I learned how to do that?"  
  
"Ah."  
  
"My mother had more to say than just adoring our baby, too," Sivi continued. "Conditions are worsening in Middle Earth. We have to go back, and soon, but we can't go back without Legolas and the others."  
  
"But we can't find them," Gil-galad protested, "It's been three years."  
  
"Mother seems to think that a way will open up sometime in the very near future. We must keep our eyes open and not miss it."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The familiar walls of the Place rose around her, the bright rooms empty of laughing faces and loud music. Empty, save for a lone golden- haired figure clad in green. Andrea gasped softly and ran to the side of her Pretty One. Yet, even as she reached him, the image collapsed in on itself and she was running through the dark green of Mirkwood. She recognized this dream.  
  
"NO!" she screamed, fighting with her dream self, trying to change history by turning back to her love. As she fought against memory, the dream changed again. Now she was standing before the deep whale tank. There was a shimmer of light within its deep blue. Somehow Andrea knew that shimmer, what ever it was, was important. She dove after it.  
  
Down and down and down, further than any tank could ever hope to span, Andrea swam easily, pushing herself through the dream ocean. She reached out-and now the glowing gem was a light and smooth weight in her hands. Opal starlight glittered around her. The shadows reached up, longing to reclaim their treasure. Though Andrea struggled, they grabbed at her arms and the sudden pain of their touch caused her to scream.  
  
It was her own scream that woke her. Andrea sat up slowly, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. She wrapped her arms around her self in an effort to still the fearful shivers. She hissed at the hot pain that shot through her arms. Looking down, she saw the long steaks of burn marks and she stared.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
CRUNCH. Fizzle. Znap. Fizz.  
  
Orlando started awake and stared in shock and horror at his new knife buried to its mahogany hilt in the hotel room clock.  
  
"I left you in my suitcase," he told the knife incredulously. "How -?"  
  
With a sigh, he yanked it out of the clock, which gave a last popping hiss and went dead. He got up and changed from his pajamas into some warm clothes, wondering how much he would have to pay the hotel for the clock. It didn't really worry him; he had plenty of money. Still, it was humiliating.  
  
He had come to New York for the American premiere of "The Return of the King," and it had been glamorous indeed. Now he and the other cast members were spending a few days in the Big Apple just for, as Orlando seemed to remember a friend of his saying once, though he couldn't be sure, "kicks and giggles." Orlando decided to go downstairs and pay for the clock, then try to find an... interesting... place to have breakfast. 


	4. Mind Games

Okay, it's official. We have tried and tried and tried, but we just cannot keep a schedule. Therefore, if at all possible, we will post on the days noted in our profile, but we promise nothing, because we are tired of breaking promises and disappointing readers. It makes me, for one, feel like a louse. I know "Meggie," and I know that she was teasing, but it HAS been almost a month, and I'm ashamed, and I'm sorry. I don't know what to do about it because both my schedule and Phe-chan's are jam-packed. At any rate, we will continue to do our best. We hope you enjoy this chapter; it is longer than some of our previous ones, if that counts for anything. -EHAB  
  
Chapter Four: Mind Games  
  
The building was quite normal, if a little old. It had grayish walls and a red sign that read 'The Place To Be: Good food and coffee'. The thing that seemed to catch Orlando's eye was the door. It had once been painted red to match the sign, but had since been decorated by various artists who seemed to have a variety of interests. With a smile, Orlando Turner stepped inside. And out of all reality, it seemed.  
  
"Onh-honh-honh! Vat eez zeece? Eez it a sane one?! I vant to suck your sanity!" cried a voice from the corner as he entered. Orlando backed quickly away from the strange boy as he attempted to pounce.  
  
"AHHH!" the boy screamed, as if in great pain. "Zere eez no sanity! No sanity I zaee!" The strange thing ran back to the shadows.  
  
Orlando, being more than a little disturbed by this confrontation, moved cautiously to a small empty booth. He pulled a menu to himself and began to look over. He had only enough to notice that several of the specials were a bit... odd... before a middle-aged man with reddish hair and piercing green eyes approached his table. Orlando, remembering his encounter at the door, eyed him warily.  
  
"No one sits alone at The Place," the man said in an almost irritable tone. "Come and join us."  
  
He pointed behind himself to the largest table in the room, a round corner booth at the front of the restaurant, up a short flight of steps leading to the second floor.  
  
"No offense," Orlando said haltingly, "but, uh, who are you?"  
  
"Oh, that. I'm Elmo, one of the Regulars. Two of my nieces work here. They're called Sivi and Sarah, but neither of them is working today. Are you coming?"  
  
"Um, alright," Orlando shrugged.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sivi made note of the tall, fairly attractive stranger her uncle had brought to join them. Fairly attractive; she was a daughter of the Valar and married to an Elven-king, and mortal Men had long ago ceased to impress her. She only really noticed him at all because there was a familiarity about him. She knew him, she was sure.  
  
Introductions flashed around the table like sun-shafts, and as her name was brought to his attention and his distinctive eyes flickered to linger on her, Sivi was struck was a sudden intuitive foresight - a gift from her uncle Mandos, no doubt. She sat up straighter and instinctively glanced around for Andrea. The tiny redhead was nowhere in sight. For now, that was a good thing. It gave Sivi a moment to consider what she would do, and how much she would tell Andrea, when the time came.  
  
Orlando was making mental notes. 'Sarah: sassy redhead; big brown eyes; perfect skin, but a bit pale; nice figure; tell Craig. 'Christina: pretty but very dangerous; no nonsense, streetwise, droll; straw-colored hair; HUGE blue eyes; tall and thin. 'Jeremie: looks like Will Smith's younger brother; always smiling; very friendly; nice hat. 'Elmo: must have had cruel parents; bears no resemblance to the toy; kind of gruff; auburn hair; greenish eyes; probably about thirty-five to forty; bushy beard; do not cross. 'Megan: LONG blonde hair; blue eyes; smart; practical. 'Erin: gold hair; turquoise (?!) eyes; quiet; reserved and dignified; protective of wife, Sivi -'  
  
Orlando's mental notebook snapped shut with a clap as he looked at the girl Jeremie was calling 'See-vee.' She had long, honey-coloured hair, eyes the colour of a rainy day, and a tall, well-built frame. She stared at him for the longest fraction of a second, a light of profound discovery in those rain-hued eyes, and he felt the curtain swing back for an instant.  
  
"Vardamiriel," he muttered incoherently.  
  
"What?" asked Jeremie pleasantly.  
  
"Nothing," Orlando answered. He didn't even know what the word meant, but he knew it must mean something, for Sivi had obviously heard him say it, and her brows had risen considerably.  
  
Just then, a small redhead with sad brown eyes came up to the table and smiled. At least, Orlando thought, it was meant to be a smile, but it was too melancholy to be really happy.  
  
"Hey, guys," she said. "Your orders are about to come up. Sorry they're so late; Louie got into the eggs again, and we had to bring him round."  
  
"A dog?" Orlando frowned disapprovingly.  
  
"No," the girl said, looking at him as though he had just said something very weird, "no, no dog."  
  
"Louie's the chef," Christina said coolly. "Or the assistant chef, anyway. He's not supposed to have albumin, but he can't get enough of the stuff. Makes him about as SICK as a dog, but he's no dog. Quinn should have been watching him."  
  
"Quinn's off today," the girl said with a heavy sigh.  
  
"I thought she was only off when he was off," Sarah commented.  
  
"Schedules got skewed," the girl explained tiredly.  
  
"What's albumin?" Orlando asked uncomfortably.  
  
"Protein substance found in egg whites, milk, blood, plasma, etc," Megan told him.  
  
"Who's he?" the girl asked. "Have I met him before?"  
  
"My name's Orlando Turner. You've probably seen me - I played in Lord of the Rings."  
  
"I didn't go to see that," the girl said almost coldly.  
  
"Should have," Christina said. "Orlando played Legolas."  
  
This information apparently had some significance, for the girl's expression darkened.  
  
"I try," muttered Christina.  
  
"I'm Andrea," the girl said softly, extending her hand.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Orlando said fervently, taking her wrist.  
  
Andrea hissed through her teeth in pain. Orlando let go and stared at her arm.  
  
"How did you get those horrible burns?" he asked in shock; the girl's arm was scored by a twisting, radiating pattern of blistered, shimmering flesh.  
  
Andrea turned to Sivi, jerking her long sleeve down over her arm again.  
  
"Did you want something else to drink?"  
  
"Klah, yes, please," Sivi said immediately, though her glass was already full of orange juice.  
  
"Right," Andrea said quickly, and nervously flicked a strand of hair behind her left ear before turning and flitting away.  
  
"She's a little short for an Elf," Orlando commented after a moment's silence.  
  
"That's the running joke," Elmo replied with a wry smile.  
  
"I thought she hadn't seen the films," Orlando added.  
  
"She hasn't," Erin told him.  
  
"Then why the ears?"  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"She didn't choose them," Erin said very quietly.  
  
"Y'see, Orlando," began Jeremie, "nobody at The Place is normal."  
  
"I'm beginning TO see," Orlando laughed.  
  
"Everybody has something peculiar, something weird about them. The thing is, they can tell the other Regulars, and they always do. Everyone in here knows just about everything about everyone else."  
  
"Okay," Orlando said cautiously. "This is a lead-in," he said. "You guys are trying to tell me what's strange about that Andrea girl."  
  
"Actually," Jeremie, removing his hat and fiddling with it, "we're trying to tell you what's strange about our whole group."  
  
Orlando was confused, but then he saw Jeremie's ears.  
  
"You a fan, too?" he laughed, a little nervously.  
  
"You tell me," Jeremie smiled.  
  
Gingerly, Orlando reached over and tugged Jeremie's right ear. Not only did it not come off, but it was warm and living and definitely not foam. There was no seam, either.  
  
"That's - that's great," Orlando half-laughed, half-gasped. "How do you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" Christina snapped in a sudden burst of temper. "They're ears; they sit there, they grow, they collect wax, they're annoyingly pointed; what's the problem?"  
  
"The annoyingly pointed part," Orlando said firmly.  
  
"Lost a fight with a magic sparkly. Any other questions?" Christina asked hatefully.  
  
"Calm down," Elmo said softly.  
  
"Yes, sir," said Christina in a surprisingly submissive tone of voice.  
  
"I was talking to him, but it would do you good, too," Elmo told her with a smile.  
  
"So," Megan spoke up cheerily, "what's weird about you?"  
  
"Me?" Orlando said, startled.  
  
"Yeah, you," Sarah grinned. "You can't be a Regular here if you aren't weird."  
  
Orlando started to protest that he didn't WANT to be a Regular here and was leaving the country soon, anyway, but stopped.  
  
"Well..." he said slowly. "I do knife my alarm clock every morning."  
  
There was a sudden loud crash behind him, and he jumped. Turning, he was faced with Andrea's wide-eyed stare. On the floor were shards of a shattered clay mug and a puddle of what looked like coffee or hot chocolate. The diminutive waitress was standing very still, quivering. Of a sudden, she bolted toward the back of the restaurant.  
  
"I didn't think it was that..." Orlando trailed off as he saw the looks on the others' faces. "...weird."  
  
Only Sivi and Elmo didn't look surprised. Megan picked up on that.  
  
"You knew, didn't you?" she asked of Sivi.  
  
"Come on. What DON'T Sivi and Elmo know ahead of time?" Christina said pointedly.  
  
"Very little," Sarah agreed. "I'm not concerned so much with seeing; I don't do very much of the prophecy/foresight stuff, but they do, and so did Joseph."  
  
Orlando stared at them all. What were they TALKING about?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"He's here," Andrea whispered to herself, sounding more like the Squee than she had for the past three years. "It has to be him, I know it." Her slim fingers rubbed at the stone of the wedding ring as her brain tried to process information.  
  
"He looks almost exactly the same, and laughs the same, and got that worried look the same and... and the clocks. He knifes alarm clocks too." Every word she spoke seemed to further her confidence that the stranger was, in fact, Legolas. After all this time, he had finally found his way back to her...  
  
"So WHAT am I hiding here for?!" she practically shouted at herself as she jumped up and ran back to her pretty one.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Andrea darted back into The Place's main room, around a few tables, past a fellow waitress, up the stairs, and into the corner where her friends all sat. She slipped on the klah she had spilled earlier and landed in the lap of the very confused and bewildered Orlando. That was where she had been aiming to land anyway (the klah was probably the only reason she didn't miss). She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Sivi buried her face in her knuckles. How like Andrea to put only positive clues together. How like her not to see...  
  
Orlando grabbed the girl's frail shoulders and pushed her roughly back off of himself. It took only a moment under his daunting glare for Andrea to at last put the final piece into the puzzle. Her eyes swam with shocked and bitter tears.  
  
"Andrea, don't!" Sivi commanded sharply.  
  
Heedless, the poor girl flung herself away from Orlando and rushed headlong out of The Place. Sivi and Gil-galad dove after her. 


	5. Hostage

Heyla! It's EHAB. Before we get into the chapter, someone asked what Klah is. If you have ever read Anne McCaffrey's (sp?) "Dragonriders of Pern" series, you know that Klah is the Pernese version of coffee, mixed with a little cinnamon and hot chocolate. If you haven't, I don't recommend the Klah (not being a big coffee-drinker myself). If you like coffee, have at it, but if not... Also, I would like to say that there are only two books in this series that I personally care for at all, namely "Dragonsong" and "Dragonsinger." There is a third book in that particular trilogy within the series, "Dragondrums," but there is a scene in it that I don't approve of, so I can't tell you to go and read it. Really, it isn't necessary anyway. It focuses on a different character than the other two, and "Dragonsinger" concludes things so nicely. Still, that's neither here nor there. Anywho (duck Meggie's pillow), you may need a list of names for this chapter, so here it is:  
  
Orlando Turner-Legolas; Viggo Hidalgo-Aragorn; Liv Taylor-Arwen; Elijah Dodger-Frodo; Sean Mikë-Sam; Billy Masters-Pippin; Dom Shawcross-Merry; John Sallah-Gimli; Ian Ash-Bilbo; Sean Miller-Boromir  
  
If we have forgotten anything, or you have any further questions, please let us know. Here, then, is Chapter Five: Hostage. -EHAB  
  
Orlando watched Andrea, Erin, and Sivi dart out the door one after the other with a sinking feeling of utmost bewilderment - tinged with a strange, unfounded regret. One thing he was certain of: he had chosen the WRONG place to have breakfast. He had to get out of here. Once he was gone, he would never look back. Yet, a hidden, suppressed part of him seemed to say subtly, 'Wait! Not yet.'  
  
Just as Orlando thought he had the upper hand in this insane debate with himself, Elmo stood, shaking his auburn head. Elmo walked to the railing and looked down at the lower level of the restaurant. For a moment, Orlando thought the older man was not going to say anything. Then Elmo shouted,  
  
"REGULARS! WE HOLD COUNCIL NOW! ANYONE WHO IS NOT A REGULAR, PLEASE LEAVE THE PREMISES. YOU MAY RETURN IN THE MORNING, AND YOUR MONEY WILL BE REFUNDED, OR YOU WILL BE GIVEN A FREE MEAL. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHETHER OR NOT YOU ARE A REGULAR, YOU ARE NOT A REGULAR. THANK YOU."  
  
'Well, that settles that,' thought Orlando, and as a sparse few began to get up and head for the door, he moved to do the same.  
  
Elmo placed a broad hand on Orlando's shoulder and pushed him gently but firmly back into his seat.  
  
"That does not include you," he said with a wry, and to Orlando's surprise, somewhat sad, smile.  
  
"I - I was just going to go anyway, when you got up, and -"  
  
"My friend," said Elmo with that same sorrowful, authoritative air, "you are not to leave until we Regulars have finished conducting our business."  
  
"What are you going to do, offer me as a sacrifice?" Orlando said, trying not to snap at Elmo, but close to losing his patience out of nerves.  
  
"No, that wouldn't be very original," Elmo grinned ruefully. "It might be fun, but not original. We just have to discuss some things, and then, if everything's kosher, you can leave."  
  
"And if everything's not?" Orlando inquired, his voice low and angry.  
  
"Then Andrea, with advice from Sivi, Erin, Sarah, Megan, and the rest of us, will decide what is to be done with you. I must go downstairs. MISHA! SESH!" Elmo raised his voice again.  
  
Two youths, one blonde and pale, the other obviously Asian, and both extremely handsome, looked up from their places by the window from which the waiters and waitresses picked up orders. At a sign from Elmo, they started for the upper floor. Elmo met them at the top of the stairs and spoke to them quietly. They brought chairs and placed them one on either side of the stairwell. Sitting down, they leaned back and began to talk leisurely to one another. Orlando understood, and seethed: he was under guard.  
  
The group he had been sitting with rose and went downstairs with Elmo and the rest. Orlando was alone and trapped. He moved to the part of the booth against the wall, where Misha and Sesh could not see him very well, and tried to think up some way to get out.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a thrumming vibration against his thigh. Puzzled, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Of course; he had forgotten that he had it with him! He answered quickly with a quiet, harried,  
  
"Hello? Viggo!" he almost shouted, and quickly glanced to see if either Misha or Sesh had heard him. They appeared not to notice anything, still talking in quiet, relaxed tones.  
  
"Viggo, Viggo, listen to me," Orlando said urgently, "you have to c - No, I don't want to go - no! No, will you LISTEN?" he hissed. "I need your help!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You what?" Viggo Hidalgo drawled incredulously. "You're WHERE?"  
  
"Viggo, is something wrong?" Liv Taylor asked concernedly as she and the others lounged in the hotel lobby.  
  
"H-hold on, Orlando," Viggo said, and he put the phone away from his mouth.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Viggo! No, wait, what are you - VIGGO!" Orlando snapped as quietly as possible. "Stop it! Don't you dare start laugh - Viggo! Viggo, this is not funny - Will you STOP? THIS IS SERIOUS! I NEED HELP!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"What ARE you LAUGHING at?" Liv queried in exasperation.  
  
Viggo leaned against the wall and shook with laughter.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Billy Masters, looking bemusedly from Viggo to Liv.  
  
"H - he's - he's - he's at some restaurant," Viggo gasped, "being - being held - mf! - HOSTAGE - by a bunch of FANGIRLS!"  
  
"WH-HAT?" Elijah Dodger exclaimed in an astonished laugh. "You're joking, right? Or he's joking. It's one of those crazy pranks he pulls."  
  
"I don't think he would joke about being kidnapped by fangirls," John Sallah chuckled. "He'd never hear the end of it, and he knows it."  
  
"He wants us to come get him," Viggo said, still breathing hard from sheer mirth.  
  
"Don't worry, little Elf-princeling," John said loudly. "We'll come and save you from the big, bad blondes! Be careful until we get there! Fangirls can be ferocious!"  
  
"At least Orlando HAS fangirls," Billy smiled coldly.  
  
John stopped and shot him a savage glare.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Will you tell John to shut up? I'm going to beat him into a Dwarvish pulp!" Orlando snarled.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"As soon as you escape from the evil, possessed, pixi-stix popping makeup goddesses. Right. Got it. I'll tell him. Keep your shirt on; we're coming."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Ulmo, what is going on?" Bonnie-chan asked. "Why are we holding Orlando Turner hostage on the second floor? I know you KNEW Legolas, but surely the man's portrayal of him wasn't THAT bad."  
  
"Orlando's portrayal of Legolas' character was next to flawless; that's just it," Ulmo told her sternly.  
  
"I don't understand," Adam the Arachnid Normalcy Vampire spoke up.  
  
"Orlando IS Legolas, but he doesn't remember BEING Legolas," Jeremie explained. "That's why we couldn't find him, and that's why he never came back on his own."  
  
As a unit, the Regulars murmured,  
  
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  
  
"So what do we DO with him?" asked Jhaquira, a waitress. "How do we fix him?"  
  
"I don't know. We'll have to talk with the other Valar. Varda or Mandos may know," Ulmo responded tiredly.  
  
"Can you communicate with them from here?" Anthony, another Regular with a rather... large... pet bird, asked with a frown.  
  
"I can," said Ulmo with a sigh in his voice, "but whatever we need to, er, 'fix him,' as Jhaquira puts it, is probably in Middle-Earth. Also, I don't think Mr. Turner is going to be too happy about matters if we just start experimenting, throwing spells at him. He might cooperate a little more if he had proof that what we are going to tell him is true. The only proof we really have to offer is an all-expenses-paid vacation in Arda. I think we're going to have to go back."  
  
"Shouldn't we wait until we've rounded up all the others?" drawled Jesse, a former Texan who dwarfed just about everyone else in the room.  
  
"I don't think that's going to be too much of a problem," Jeremie said, nodding towards the top of the stairs.  
  
Sesh and Misha were still talking easily, but Sesh was making lazy gestures with his hands - gestures that were meant for Ulmo rather than Misha.  
  
"According to Sesh," Jeremie said with a dry smile, "Mr. Turner has received a phone call, and we're about to have company."  
  
"Be ready to fight," Ulmo said grimly.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Andrea was running, to where she did not know, nor did she care. She could only be sure that she was running away. And yet her tears and her hurts were still with her, nipping at her mind and her heart like vicious wolves at the ankles of a frightened doe.  
  
He has forgotten me.  
  
"NO!" she told her mind harshly.  
  
He never meant to stay.  
  
"Stop it! It wasn't him!" she cried at her own thoughts, wondering if she was now losing her last feeble grip on sanity. She wondered if she even cared.  
  
He doesn't lo-  
  
"Leave me be," she told her thoughts, though she had no spare air in her lungs for it. She had never run quite this hard before. Distantly, she heard someone calling to her, but it was as if her despair had become an impenetrable shield. She could not even recall whom the voice belonged to. And so, she ran on, pushing herself faster and faster, trying to outrun the enemy that was her own broken heart.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Is this the place?" Liv asked Viggo uncertainly as they and their friends walked up to the outlandish-looking doors.  
  
"Yeah," said a huge, sandy-haired man lounging against the outside wall. "It's closed fer the day."  
  
"Excuse me?" Liv said, confused.  
  
The man took a toothpick out of his mouth, pushed his hat back a little, and told her,  
  
"You's askin' if this was The Place, yeah? Well, it is. Act'lly, its proper name is 'The Place to Be,' but everybody jus' calls it The Place. But like I tol' ya, it's closed fer the day."  
  
"O-oh," Liv said nervously. "We were just looking for a friend of ours -"  
  
"Mr. Turner?" the man said in a quiet, dangerous voice. "Yeah, he's here."  
  
"I thought you said it was closed for the day," Dom Shawcross frowned, undaunted, stepping up beside Liv.  
  
"Tha' doe'n' look like a fangirl t'me," Billy murmured to Hugo Smith, who shook his head in a very definite agreement.  
  
"Looks like a bouncer," added Ian Ash, who had heard the comment.  
  
"I AM a bouncer, o'sorts," the man said with a hard smile.  
  
"A bouncer with very good hearing, apparently," John said with a smirk. "Well, look; this is how it stands. You've got our friend, and we want him back. Just hand him over sound, and there won't be legal trouble."  
  
"Police chief's a friend o'mine. In fact, he's a Reg'lar here; he's just inside the door. You wanna talk to him? Follow me."  
  
"Thanks, I think I will," John said without blinking. "Lead the way; there's a good lad."  
  
The man gave John a bemused look and strode inside without even glancing over his shoulder.  
  
"Surely we outnumber...?" Sean Miller began, looking around at his friends.  
  
Viggo shrugged.  
  
"Irrelevant," he said, and started for the door.  
  
With uncertain glances at one another, his companions followed.  
  
Gil-galad took off after Andrea. Sivi jogged behind, trusting her husband to catch the miserable Elven child. The Elf-king saw the ends of Andrea's coppery hair fan out and flash as she ducked around a corner. He followed at a dead run, hoping to catch her quickly. He had not taken into account, however, the fact that Andrea was now an Elf. Not only that, but she was small, and that made her fast. Gil-galad's only relative advantages in this twisted race were his past experience and well-trained muscles, and perhaps his endurance. He had no idea how far or fast the girl's anguish could carry her before it exhausted her at the last.  
  
Andrea knew she should stop and go with Sivi and Gil-galad, but she couldn't reason with herself. He hadn't known her, and everything was over now.  
  
'Not over,' said a Voice in her mind. 'You still have God.'  
  
'I know. I just - I just want to be alone. I just don't want to go back in there. I don't want Sivi to say everything's going to be okay.'  
  
She splashed through a grimy puddle, sloshing dirty water on her jeans.  
  
'Don't you?' asked the Voice.  
  
Dimly, she recognized Central Park ahead but did not slow.  
  
'I don't, because it isn't,' she replied.  
  
'Isn't it?' the Voice answered.  
  
Gil-galad caught up to Andrea and grasped her arm. The girl cried out; he had clutched her burns. Not because of her arm, nor because of the Elf- king's strong grip, but because the Voice had finally prevailed upon her, Andrea collapsed on her knees on the ground.  
  
"You're hurting my arm," she whispered, crying softly.  
  
Gil-galad released her gently, and Andrea curled into a little ball in the grass. Gil-galad lowered himself onto his knees behind her. There he sat, keeping silent vigil, until Sivi came up. She stopped, looked around, and laughed hollowly.  
  
"This is the bench where Legolas first met us when he came to New York."  
  
Andrea let out a broken sob. Sivi sank down in the grass beside her and let her hand rest on Andrea's head.  
  
"Are you going to tell me that it's all going to be okay?" Andrea asked in a dead tone.  
  
"No," said Sivi, and Andrea looked up. "No, because I can't promise that. What I can promise is that God has got you. I can promise that He isn't going to leave you. I can promise that not everything He does will make you happy, but I can also promise that everything He does has a purpose. Trust Him."  
  
"I do trust Him; I know He's always there. Legolas isn't, though. Legolas isn't there."  
  
"Yes, he is," Sivi said encouragingly. "We just have to find him - or help him find himself. If we're going to do that, though, we have to go back to The Place."  
  
"Come," said Gil-galad, gathering Andrea into his arms. "Walking back to sadness is hard. I will carry you."  
  
This unexpected kindness overwhelmed the young girl, and she burst out sobbing again. She buried her face in Gil-galad's shoulder and wept as the Elf-king carried her back towards The Place. Sivi walked slowly behind, marveling at the day's startling revelations. 


	6. Armani vs Elear

Heyla, EHAB here again! This is a long chappie. I hope that you enjoy. Most of the Elvish in this chapter isn't important for understanding the storyline, but "Elëar" means "Star-sea," "Sulfëa" "Wind spirit," "Eldir" means "Star watcher," and "Caran" is "reddish-gold." Oh, and "Atalante" is a name for Numenor that means "the fallen". - EHAB  
  
Chapter Six: Armani vs. Elëar  
  
"This is insane," Cate Gray yelled, struggling to free her pinned arms from Zane the Normalcy Vampire's firm grasp. "I demand to know why we're being held this way."  
"No, YOU are eensane," Zane griped. "Very toroughly insane, I might add. I couldn't even get a neebble of normal out of you. Eetz very frustrating, vehn I am so 'ungry."  
"Let me GO, you lunatic!" Cate shrieked.  
"Vahtever you say," Zane shrugged, releasing her, "but I don't know vehr you tink you are going to go. Zee doors are locked."  
"So unlock them," John Sallah growled from his position on the floor, being sat upon by Jesse, who was placidly eating a roast beef sandwich.  
"I don't 'ave zee autority to do zat," Zane answered mildly. "Lord Ulmo has commanded zat zee doors shall only be opened upon zee return of 'eez niece, Sivi, 'er friend Andrea, or 'er 'usband Ereinion."  
"Bring Lord Ulmo here and let me tell him a thing or two," John snarled.  
"'Ee eez beezy at zee moment, but I am sure 'ee will geev you audience soon."  
"We don't want audience. We want out of this place," Sean Mikë, being sat upon by Adam, snapped.  
Zane sighed and looked at Jesse.  
"Vie do 'ostages alvays try to make bargains or trehts? Eet eez predictable and boreeng."  
"I don't know, Zane; I really don't. I just hope Lady Sivi and Lord Ereinion get back soon with Princess Andrea."  
"She didn't strike me as a princess type," Orlando commented.  
"She married into the Royal Family," Jesse drawled.  
"Then what was she doing kissing ME?" Orlando queried pointedly.  
Every Regular in the room turned and gave him the same ironic, undecipherable look.  
"So," Bonnie-chan said boredly, "anyone up for a game of Jerudo Jenga? They can play, too, if they behave themselves," she added, indicating the actors.  
"What in the name of wonder is Jerudo Jenga?" Dom asked, exasperated and incredulous.  
Megan was poised to answer, but there was a rap on the front doors.  
"HELP!" Liv screamed at the potential rescuer.  
"Save your breath, m'lady," Sesh said quietly. "I know that knock. It's Lady Sivi."  
"Ah, some answers a'last," Billy commented amiably.  
"Most probably," Sesh smiled softly.  
He rose and moved to open the doors. Three people entered somberly. There was a short, red-haired with large, shining eyes - shining, because obviously she had been crying. Behind her came a slender male, tall, fair of face and hair, and possessed of aqua eyes, followed by a young woman with wavy russet hair and eyes like a rainy day.  
"So," said Billy haltingly, "What's wrong with the 'princess'? A'least, I assume she's the princess."  
The lady turned her grey eyes on him and replied in a low tone,  
"She has come through many trials. Let her alone."  
"Uh, Lord Ulmo says it's time to go back," Jeremie said into the awkward silence.  
"Yes, if all have come," the lady answered.  
"They have, and one extra," Megan said, pointing at Andy Circus on the floor next to Orlando.  
"I don't think I shall I ask how you brought all of them here," the lord said with a smile.  
"We didn't," Christina said. "Mr. Turner had a cell phone."  
"I see," the lord laughed easily.  
"So, what now? Do we just go?" Bonnie-chan queried.  
"Ah... where are you going?" Billy inquired.  
"WE," the lady told him, "are going to return to Arda to defeat the Shadow that has arisen there in our absence."  
"You were right," Andy murmured to Orlando. "They really are mad."  
"I heard that!" Sarah hollered from the other side of the room.  
"We kinda owe them an explanation," the little princess said in a soft, sad voice.  
"Hear, hear!" said Ian Ash very loudly.  
"Hear what, Mr. Baggins?" asked the lady with a grin. "What you have got to say? What might that be?"  
Ian stared at her for a moment, then stuttered,  
"Well, I mean, after kidnapping us and sitting on half of us, I really think that the princess, or whatever you call her -"  
"I'm just Andrea," the girl interjected glumly.  
"Well, it's just, I think she's right," Ian finished. "You do owe us one, really. An explanation, I mean.  
"Andrea, would you like to begin?" the lady offered gently.  
"No. Do you want me to?" the girl asked with a sigh.  
"No, I will," the lady said comfortingly.  
"When Andrea was fourteen or fifteen, her family moved to a new house. Andrea found an old tiara in the attic and used it to bring herself to Mirkwood."  
"It was an accident," Andrea put in, not really looking at anything in particular.  
"Thranduil doesn't take kindly to strangers, and if Legolas hadn't spoken for her, Andrea might still be in the Elven-king's dungeons."  
"I'd be really old, though," Andrea commented.  
"At any rate, Legolas and Andrea fell in love, and Legolas broke off his engagement with Morniwen, an Elf-maid. Morniwen lied to Andrea and caused her to run away and return home."  
"Then I met Sivi at school," Andrea said, brightening ever so slightly.  
"That would be me," the lady said with a smile. "We became friends, and she shared her misadventure with me. I shared with her that I am the daughter of Manwë and Varda and that Sarah my cousin is the child of Aulë and Yavanna. After four years, we went to college together as roommates. One morning, we went to catch one of the city buses that pass our university. We were sitting on a bench on the fringe of Central Park when Legolas met us. He had only stayed in New York, in my father's apartment -"  
"I thought your father was Manwë," John interrupted sarcastically.  
"He is," Sivi replied serenely. "As I was saying, it was only two days before Lady Galadriel called Legolas, and the rest of us with him, back to Lorien. The Elven Rings Vilya and Narya had stolen, so we went back in time and retrieved them, saving the lives of Gil-galad and Boromir in the process."  
"How thoughtful," Orlando remarked.  
"Thank you," Sivi smiled imperturbably. "We returned by different paths to the present. Legolas defeated Morniwen, whom we had discovered had stolen the Rings in the first place. Legolas and Andrea, as well as Gil- galad and myself, were married. We then returned to New York. Conditions in Middle-Earth worsened, so the heroes of the Third Age came seeking Uncle Ulmo's counsel. Morniwen found them together and attacked."  
"So where are they now?" Dom asked, plainly unbelieving, when she stopped.  
The silence could have been cut with a knife.  
"You have to understand," Megan said at last, "that Morniwen usually attacks with spells rather than swords. You've seen our ears," she added to Orlando.  
"I have. They haven't," he replied, indicating his friends with a jerk of his head.  
"So much she has done to us, knowing we would not return to Eä without our friends," Sivi said.  
Suddenly, it dawned on Liv where all of this ridiculous discussion must be headed. These people were insane; they had to be!  
"You can't mean us!" she cried.  
"We do," Sivi returned calmly.  
"We're ACTORS!" John shouted.  
There was a set of three firm stamps from above.  
"What was that?" John demanded.  
"The man upstairs wants you to keep it down," Andrea said matter-of- factly.  
They all stared at her.  
"Not God," Christina drawled, leaning back in her chair and staring boredly at the ceiling. "There's a guy who lives on the third floor of the building."  
"Oh... Well, anyway, we're actors, not heroes, and we've never seen you before in our lives."  
There was a general murmur of assent from the other thespians. Orlando added,  
"We're not who you seem to think."  
The red-haired girl moved and everyone fell silent. From his position on the floor, Orlando noticed a few moving to block exits. Andrea, however, merely walked to Orlando in slow, measured steps. When she knelt before him, their eyes met.  
Orlando almost winced visibly at the sight of her eyes. They were beautiful, making him think very much of a forest in summer, but they were also...broken. He had a sudden unexplainable urge to just reach out and hold her, to heal the unfathomable hurt left behind now that the tears had run out. He would have acted on it too, had he not been a human chair at the moment.  
"But you are," she whispered softly, interrupting his study of her eyes. She brushed her fingers through his hair softly, and Orlando felt some small piece of memory trying to fight for thought space, but he couldn't reach it. "Or you were," she amended just as softly. For some reason those words tore into his heart like a twisted blade, hurting more than he thought possible for words from such a fragile girl. Andrea must have seen this in his eyes, because she smiled sadly, as if reflecting on a good dream. Her slender fingers combed his hair, her touch so gentle it was barely more than a whisper. And then her fingers reached his ears. His round human ears. Andrea's reaction was instant; she jerked away as if she'd been burned, her face now schooled to a sad blankness.  
"I'm sorry," was her only reply as she stood slowly. Orlando's heart screamed at his mind in words he could not understand. "I shouldn't hold you here like this... I'm sorry."  
  
"Why should I hold you here? What can I possibly mean to you?"  
  
"Everything! Everything, and so much more! I love you!"  
  
The flash was over as soon as it had come, and Orlando had no understanding of the words he had heard... or had he only imagined them? But Andrea was walking away now, and everything in him cried out to stop her, to not let this end this way. And yet, as he racked his brain for the right thing to say, he heard a voice that was and was not his own. Squee, the voice called, Squee! I still love you! Even as he recognized the words, the voice was fading from his memory.  
"Squee," he started, but he couldn't remember why, or what the word meant, if it meant anything. And it hadn't made any difference, as Andrea had already disappeared into the back room and hadn't heard.  
Ulmo came down the stairs from the upper level. Looking around at everyone in their subdued quiet, he asked,  
"Well? Have they been told anything?"  
"Yes, Uncle," Sivi answered.  
"I've called Peggy and asked her to come and to bring Tony, too," Ulmo said. "When she gets here, we can leave. Where's N - Andrea?"  
"She's in the back. She'll be out in a minute," Sivi returned.  
"Why did you call Andrea's mom?" asked Bonnie-chan.  
"She needs to be a part of this, too," Gil-galad said. "Andrea hurts."  
"Do we need to pack anything?" asked Lora the Gummie.  
"Are you coming? I mean, I thought that it would just be those of us who've been," Jeremie said.  
"No way! You think we'd miss this?" Bonnie-chan exclaimed. "We're all going to come."  
"Well, no, don't pack anything. We usually get our supplies when we get there," Jeremie told her, looking to Sivi, who nodded.  
"And how do you plan to do that?" asked Billy.  
"It's as easy to purchase food and clothing in the Grey Havens as it is in New York City," Sivi shrugged.  
"Is it really?" Viggo inquired with mock interest. "Do they sell Armani?"  
"No, but they have a very flattering line called Elëar," Sarah said seriously.  
"Oh? Is that the latest Numenorean fashion?" Viggo said, become more sarcastic and caustic with each word.  
"Actually, you're forgetting your history," Megan said reprovingly. "Numenor no longer exists. Atalantë, remember?"  
"I beg your pardon; how stupid of me."  
"Really, Elëar caters more toward Noldor and Teleri tastes. Men are not in high favor with Círdan, his house, or his guests at the moment," Sivi remarked ruefully. "However, he'll entertain you because he'll entertain me."  
"I MEANT," said Billy, attempting to bring the conversation back around to some semblance of normalcy, "how do you plan to get to Middle- Earth? Hang a right on Forty-Eighth Street?"  
"Now, my personal favorite, Sar, isn't Elëar but that Sulfëa that Eldir makes," Sivi said, ignoring Billy.  
"Mmm. yes, that's pretty. I suppose I prefer Elëar because of that Caran sub-line they have. You know, the scarlet velvet detailed in ithildin?"  
"Of course; how could I forget, when you wore it every chance you got for a millennia?"  
"Now, that's not fair," Sarah protested. "Those were my very favorite gowns, and I only wore them on extremely special occasions."  
There was another knock on the door.  
"HELP!" Liv shrieked again.  
"No, dear, I don't need any help, just the door unlocked," a muffled woman's voice proclaimed from outside.  
"Coming, Ms. Peggy," Bonnie-chan hollered, scrambling to reach the door. She knocked over a chair in her haste.  
"As you can tell," Sivi said with a low chuckle, "Andrea's mother, Peggy, is quite popular among the Regulars."  
"She's so nice!" Lora exclaimed. "I mean, yeah, when she gets mad, she's scary, but she hardly ever GETS mad."  
Bonnie-chan unlocked the door and held it open. A short, pleasant looking blonde woman walked in carrying a portable hamster cage (complete with hamsters) and a heavy looking shoulder bag and towing an auburn-headed boy of about ten.  
"Can I take your bag, Ms. Peggy?" asked Lora.  
"It's great to see you again," added Jhaquira.  
"Oh, thank you both, but I'm alright. The bag just has Andrea's art things. I thought she might want them on the trip," Peggy smiled.  
"What, Grey-Havens-R-Us doesn't carry Crayola?" Viggo muttered snidely. "Hi, Regulars," the boy said happily.  
"Hello, Tony," chorused about twenty different people, all grinning at the young child.  
"Mom!" shouted Andrea, emerging from the back. "What are you doing here?"  
"Going to Middle-Earth with you, dear," Peggy said cheerfully.  
"How do you know about -?" Andrea said, gaping.  
"I'm your mother, dear. I know everything," Peggy said offhandedly.  
"But - and Tony? You can't bring Tony with us!"  
"It's for moral support," Peggy replied.  
"TONY is MORAL SUPPORT?"  
"No, no, I'm moral support, but I didn't have time to find a babysitter. Look: see, I thought to bring Celi and Mithie so they won't go hungry while we're gone, and I've brought you your art supplies."  
"Thank you," said Andrea weakly.  
"Now, then!" Peggy said brightly. "Let's go adventuring!"  
"Is everyone here?" asked Ulmo.  
"Yes," said a multitude of voices.  
"Sivi," said Ulmo.  
Unexpectedly, Zane once again gripped Cate's arms from behind. Cate gasped and struggled as Sivi approached her resolutely. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as Sivi reached for her throat. Certainly these lunatics were going to murder her...  
"Hold still," Sivi said gently. "I can't undo the clasp if you squirm so."  
Cate blinked and looked down. Sivi was unfastening the silver chain around Cate's neck. She slid it from about Cate's throat and took Cate's keepsake ring Nenya.  
"I'll give this back in a moment," Sivi assured Cate.  
Sivi grasped the silver ring in her fist and closed her eyes. The actors balked as the entire world shifted, fading away into nothing they had ever known... or, at least, nothing that they remembered knowing. 


	7. Of Ships and Swords

Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! It's EHAB. Y'know, if we get more reviews when we DON'T post than we do when we DO post, maybe we should quit posting... Just kidding. At any rate, Phe-Chan has been in Texas, and I have been in France and Spain. I love Paris. You may lose me to Paris. I want to go to Paris and never come back. I WANT PARIS *sob*. Ahem. My apologies. After a long delay, here is what I hope you will consider a long and carefully composed chapter, Chapter Seven, "Of Swords and Ships."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The White Towers rose like glittering white candles framed by a sapphire sea. It was twilight, and the stars were just beginning to dot the heavens. The sound of the long grass, as well as the way in which it rippled in the breeze, made it only slightly distinguishable from the ocean by its more silvery-green shade. All was at a most fulfilling peace......... except for the actors.  
Into the silence was thrust a long cacophony of "what's," "where's," and "how's" mingled with Liv's general emissions of hysteria. A few of the actors went a bit wild and had to be sat upon once again. Jesse, Misha, and Adam had only just barely managed to wrestle John to the earth when the sound of horses made itself known, and a new voice rang out across the hillside.  
"Mani i Ëa na sinomë? I Uroloki?"  
"Hold a moment, Cirdan, we've almost got them calmed down — I think," Ulmo called.  
"My lord Ulmo!" the Elf-lord exclaimed in wonder. "Of course, lord. What ails them?"  
"Er, I'll explain in a minute, friend — WILL you be silent?! — not you, Cirdan — HUSH! NOW!"  
Ulmo had lost at least a small part of his patience. It would have been quite dangerous for him to lose it all, or even a great deal of it. When dealing with mortals, a Vala must be very, very careful of his temper.  
  
As it was, his command echoed over the countryside, and complete silence reigned. The actors and most of Cirdan's entourage were shaking, and Liv was crying softly.  
"Uncle, you are harsh," Sivi said very quietly. "They are confused and afraid."  
It might have done a bit of good for the actors to see the swift look of compassion that crossed Ulmo's face then, but they did not.  
"They might be confused and afraid a little less loudly," he grumbled in a much calmer tone.  
Under the cover of the gathering dark, Sivi smiled. Ulmo turned to Cirdan, who was mounted upon a dappled silver stallion, rubbing his generous beard, with about thirty much younger Elven warriors arrayed upon their steeds behind him.  
"Friend," Ulmo addressed Cirdan, "I need not tell you that this world is in dire straits, but it is worse than you know. I ask you to give us lodging until we may make ready to voyage to Valinor."  
"Of course, my lord Ulmo," Cirdan said with a slight bow and a tentative smile. "Forgive my less than gentle greetings. I had thought that the dragons of Utumno were baying on our hillsides, and we came out armed to meet them."  
"Are these all your number that you send against them? You may meet them yet. I should build up my host."  
Cirdan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.  
"You speak grave words to me, lord. Are we truly in such an ugly plight?"  
"Take us into your halls, and I will tell you what has come to pass, and what Varda, Manwë, and Mandos have decreed," Ulmo commanded.  
"And, yes, by the way," Sarah added as she walked by Cirdan, towing Liv with one hand and Miranda with the other. "Yes, it really is as bad as he makes it out to be."  
With a worried frown, Cirdan turned his riders about and led the way down the bluffs to the seashore. The actors were still trying to take everything in and process it, glancing wildly about themselves as if to reaffirm every few seconds that it was all quite real.  
The halls of Cirdan were vast and beautiful, like any other fair Elven city. He and the Regulars showed the actors their rooms and a sort of parlor where they could convene.  
"I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk about," Peggy grinned.  
"You can wander around the city if you like, and if you get lost, just say you're staying with Cirdan, and someone will lead you back. You can also," Sivi added with a patient grin, "try to run away if you've a mind, but it's quite a distance to the Shire, and I daresay you'll find it even stranger there than here."  
"Thanks for the advice," Karl said grouchily.  
Sivi sighed.  
"They haven't quite figured out yet that we're on their side," she told Cirdan with a sad smile.  
"I haven't quite figured out yet who they are," Cirdan returned.  
"Neither have they," Megan remarked, "but we're about to tell you."  
Círdan and the Regulars then left the actors standing in the hallway, quite free to go wherever they wished, and yet still bound within what seemed to them a foreign world.  
They hung close together for a moment. No one spoke. No one knew what to say, or even what to think.  
"I don't want to stay here," Liv said at last. "I — I'm going out to the beach."  
Without a glance at any of her companions, she slipped past them down the corridor and disappeared around a corner. Orlando shifted uneasily and looked about himself.  
"I think I'll go, too. Anyone else want to come?"  
"I will," Elijah said, and Billy nodded.  
"Wait," Martin protested with a faintly audible tinge of desperation, "can't we — let's be logical, can't we?"  
"I'm listening," Orlando replied in a flat tone of voice.  
Rubbing the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion, Marton admitted,  
"Well, I was really hoping that you would talk, or — or —"  
"Or anyone else but you? I think that's how we all feel," Miranda said, massaging her upper arms. "We each want someone else to have the answers."  
"I'm going on outside," Orlando said, and he left, followed by Elijah and Billy.  
"What now?" sighed Hugo.  
No one knew.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The music of the Grey Havens flowed as a mountain stream. The pipes wended down soft and clear, rising again in a bubbling trill, a spring welling up from the earth. The notes of harp and lyre fell as golden rain, mingled with high, fervent bells like a dew laden branch in a sudden wind.  
  
Beneath all these came the tide's rise and fall, ebb and flow, inhale and exhale. The sand was moist under Liv's back as she watched the starlight's undulating shimmer. She tugged her lilac shirt down, wringing its hem in her fingers as she cried softly. How much she would have given to be as serene as this fair realm's night! Her mind was in a tumultuous uproar. If this new world was real, what else was true? She tried to tell herself that the whole affair was ridiculous and stupid, but the strange constellations rebuked her gently.  
"I'm not," she whispered fiercely to them. "Go away. I can't be!"  
Yet as she cried herself to sleep, she found that all surety had left her like the last breath of the dying... or the first breath of one born.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The steady rushing roar of many waters reverberated around the otherwise silent forest. The air was moist with the spray of a nearby waterfall, leaving the moss, ferns, and other foliage dripping mildly. All about glowed the brightness of gold and green balanced with the solidity of earthy brown. It was too quiet.  
Liv called cautiously, "Is anyone there?"  
The noiselessness took her words and muted them. Trembling, she passed between the trees, painfully conscious of the fact that, no matter how she tried to crunch twigs, rustle leaves, or even stomp the ground, her going made no sound. Thus she crossed through sunlit glades and dense thickets like a glorious, beautiful shade until the trees parted and faded, revealing a slender, swift, cascading rivulet. It was cold on her poor, small, bare feet as she slipped across it. Where were her shoes? Ah, but she had left them on the beach. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She didn't even know who she was, and it didn't matter anymore.  
Raising her luminous eyes, she saw the city. A flashing, freshly whetted dirk of memory pierced the finite casket of her flesh and sliced her fragile heart, driving onward through her soul and straight into the locked confines of her spirit. The blade's unglancing blow struck her down to the earth, crying out in agony,  
"Elbereth! Elbereth!"  
Lying on her side, the ends of her dark hair buffeted in the unfeeling waters, she shook and sobbed, working her fingers against the soil. It was gone, now, the knowledge of what had been, but the raw pain stayed with her. Tenderly, trembling, she pushed herself back onto her feet. Everything hurt.  
She turned to look again. The city stood white in the afternoon light. White. Pure. Innocent. It was lovely, elegant, and intricate, many- tiered and mysterious. The sun dropped behind the mountains, the evening shadows became midnight moonbeams, and still she stood gazing. Imladris, it was called.  
At last she moved toward it, closer and closer until she stood upon the threshold, and then she entered through the moon-silvered archway. It was deserted.  
She walked aimlessly from chamber to chamber, reflecting almost boredly on the beauty that pervaded this surreal place. In every room, on every door, in every hall, hung a mirror, but she did not look. She came like an autumn mist into a strange room, a mural of Isildur's victory was to her left, but to her right, a carven figure held a shield draped in dark velvet upon which rested a bright sword, whole.  
Drawn, she crossed to it and lifted the gleaming weapon, the flat of its blade like winter frost on her palm, the grip smooth in her other fist. She slanted her hands toward herself and peered into the reflective surface of the metal.  
Her breath came sharp and ragged. She could see the painted image of Isildur, but it ought to have been broken by her own face, and it wasn't. She had no reflection. She half-dropped, half-flung the blade away, and it shattered in the air, its shards scattering like large slivers of glass on the velvet beneath. In those shards, she saw the visage of a dark-haired queen of Elves, crowned and shining like the evening star.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Prince among the Aratar," Cirdan pleaded, "rescind these hateful words and say to me that my sovereign and his queen are not among the alien mortals you have brought here to my house."  
"Aragorn was mortal before he was enchanted," Sarah commented.  
"Not like that!" Eldir, a cousin of Cirdan's house, exclaimed harriedly. "These Men, these Women, they're empty inside! They're lost and confused and dead —"  
"Not dead," Sivi interrupted; "only trapped. That's why we have to help them."  
"How? These were the great ones of our Age, and now see how they are fallen! How can we save those upon whom we depended to save us?" Eldir questioned, her fair face utterly distraught.  
"We don't know," Jeremie returned. "That's why we're going to take them to the other Valar to see what Manwë, Varda, and Mandos have to say."  
"You will need a ship," Cirdan said.  
"Yes, lord shipwright; thus it is that we come to you," Sivi told him.  
"It will be ready for you within the fortnight," Cirdan promised.  
"What may we pay you for this service?" Sarah inquired.  
"Pay me? To prepare a ship for the Lord of Waters? Nay, Lady Lachlotiel, you shall do nothing of the kind."  
"Then take at least our gratitude," Ulmo said as he rose. "Rest assured, lord shipwright, that if the deed may be done at all, we will find a way to restore the heroes of the Third Age."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Liv, Liv, what's wrong?" Elijah demanded, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. Liv stood up to her calves in the surf, her eyes wide and desperate. Her face was bathed in tears, her dark hair was taken in the night breeze, whipping violently around her face and neck, and she stared almost madly out at the horizon. The three men who had found her there were frightened by her wild appearance. "I — I have to get across the sea," she gasped breathlessly.  
"Across the — Liv, WHAT?" Billy exclaimed. "The sea, I have to go... across the sea; I — I have to remember." "Liv, it's alright," Orlando coaxed her. "You can't let this place get to you. We have to —" "You don't understand! There wasn't a face — in the mirror, in the sword, there wasn't a face, but then I broke it, and it was her face — HER face, not mine!" "Liv, you're hysterical," Elijah said firmly. "We can't understand a word of what you're saying. Come back to the city with us. Cate and Miranda will be there, and you can tell them what's happened, and I'm sure —" He got no more said, for at this point the poor woman fainted away, falling face down into the water. Orlando darted down and lifted her up. "I'll carry her," Billy offered. He picked her up, and together they started back to the Havens. "We've got to get out of this place," Elijah said despondently as they walked. "We've only been here for a few hours, but already it's doing things to us." Preoccupied with their pretty burden, the men walked straight by the diminutive form silhouetted against the bluffs. When they had passed, Andrea stepped from the shadows and stared after them, gazing most piteously upon Orlando. She was torn between a mix of curiosity and concern for the lovely actress and an overpowering desire to never meet Orlando's eyes again until he had been restored to his true Elven form — the form that loved her. The latter won out, and the little Elf stood miserably watching the actors' backs diminishing into the night. Of a sudden, Sivi was at her friend's elbow. Andrea didn't move. She had long ago ceased to wonder at the elder girl's ability to appear from nowhere just when Andrea most needed companionship. Sivi began to sing to the night. "'When I look at you, He's touching me. I would reach for him, But who can hold a memory? Love isn't everything. That moonlight on the bed will melt away... Someday.  
  
'You were once that someone Whom I followed like a star. Then suddenly you changed, And now I don't know who you are. Or could it be that I never really knew you from the start? Did I create a dream? Was he a fantasy? Even a memory Is paradise For all the fools like me...  
  
Now remembering is all that I can do... Because I miss him so... When I look at you...'"  
  
"You really need to quit reading my mind. Did you make that up yourself?" Andrea asked dully. "No, it's by Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton... a song from the Broadway musical 'The Scarlet Pimpernel.'" "Oh... What's a Scarlet Pimpernel?" "It's a flower they have in England. THE Scarlet Pimpernel was a fictitious character invented by Baroness Emmuska Orczy. He was supposed to have been like an eighteenth century superhero who went over to France and rescued aristocrats from being guillotined during the French Revolution. He and his wife were estranged," Sivi explained pleasantly. "Why?" "She denounced the Marquis de St. Cyr, who was then beheaded, but she didn't tell her husband until after they were married. Naturally, he was a little upset. What she didn't tell him even after they were married was why she had done it and that she had never meant for the marquis to be executed." "Oh... Broadway, huh?" Andrea laughed dejectedly. "I knew it didn't sound Elvish." "Would you prefer something Elvish?" Sivi asked. "Would you mind? Yes! Sing me pretty Elvis lullabies all night long." "Until you fall asleep," Sivi amended. "Then I must go and tend to Liv." "Okay," Andrea agreed. Sivi sat down upon a rock and allowed Andrea to perch on her lap and recline her head over Sivi's heart. "Eleni i lach a Ëa úna..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
With excruciating care, Liv slowly lifted the seemingly weighted lids of her striking eyes. Her breath came in small, pitiful sighs. She saw that Viggo and Cate were bent over her with twin expressions of anxiety, but she didn't care. Her breast was filled with the dull sting of total apathy. She did not even speak to acknowledge them or relieve their fears. Viggo had seen her eyes open, however, and he called to her through what she felt must be a muting, echoing ocean of numbness.  
"Liv? Are you awake?" he asked gently.  
"The sea," she whispered. It was all that mattered now.  
"It's still there, Missie," John said was a false smile that did but little to belie his worried countenance, "but we — we were starting to wonder if you were."  
"I am not," she answered simply.  
"No?" came an equally soft voice from the back of the chamber.  
The actors jumped. That Sivi girl was so quiet that it was nearly impossible to remember she was in the room.  
"Are you not still with us, then, Lady?" Sivi questioned in her low, comforting tones.  
The actors let her speak. She had brought Liv 'round twice before that night, though only for long enough to make her drink small amounts of water. This time, the strange Elven girl seemed purposeful and determined, and even though the actors did not understand her queries, they seemed to go right to Liv's encasèd heart.  
"No, I'm not here," murmured Liv's broken mouth. "Was I ever?"  
"You were," Sivi responded with that same quiet firmness.  
"I have to get across the sea," Liv returned flatly.  
"Anon, I go myself, and you and all your companions shall go with me, an they will," Sivi proclaimed easily.  
"Am I there?" Liv inquired cryptically.  
The actors shot quizzical looks at one another, but Sivi apparently understood the young actress's meaning quite well.  
"No, you're here. We're just going to go and visit some of my family; that's all."  
"What has that to do with us?" Liv asked.  
"Everything," Sivi smiled sadly. "You're fever's broken now," she added abruptly, "but you still need to rest. We leave within the fortnight."  
"When's that?" Liv answered in a very different, strangely normal, tone of voice.  
"A fortnight is two weeks," Sivi said as she rose, dusted off her lap in a business-like fashion, and turned to go.  
"And I must wait," said Liv, lapsing back into the odd, feverish whisper.  
"Yes, for a little while," Sivi replied, and then she left. 


	8. Sailing For Adventure

Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! You may have realized by now that if we open with this phrase, it's EHAB, not Phe-chan, so I'm not going to restate the obvious in future chapters. That said, I may steal Phe-chan's word 'peeps.' So-lá, peeps, this chapter is full of songs, but it is also full, chock full, of prophecies and blatant hints. "Muppets" belong to Jim Henson, and we do not own "Dollywood" or "10th Kingdom." Finally, to answer a question posed after Chapter 6, no, Andy Circus ( won't turn back into Gollum because he wasn't Gollum to begin with. Gollum is dead. Andy's just a normal actor who was pulled into the thick of things by association. That's what Megan meant when she said that "[All had come], and one extra." This subject will be more fully explored in later chapters. Thanks and God bless you all! – EHAB  
  
Chapter 8: "Sailing for Adventure"  
  
Eldír stood on a broad, white, semicircular balcony watching two long, sleek Elven vessels pass into the depths of the horizon. Between them on the rolling waters the light of the setting sun was thrown blazing, a brilliantly burning road to eternity. What terrified the delicate Elven creature was that this "road to eternity" was exactly what the voyagers sought.  
  
"Can you open the road to the fire by the power that is in you? If you could, who among you would dare traverse it?"  
  
Her soft query was lost in the breath of the sea's wind, and as she stared at the fiery path, she saw mirrored therein things of the yet to come. It was a wheeling kaleidoscope of vivid imagery: a man hurled from a rampart by the upheaval of the earth below, and a woman, despairing, fainting after; an indescribably beautiful lady weeping tears of fire onto bitter ice; a great worm, golden like the sun, forcing three figures, stumbling, back with the heat of his flame; and at last, very clearly, a terrible shadow stretching forth its hand to take the heart of small, copper-haired Elven child.  
  
Eldír dropped to her knees and leaned her head against the rail.  
  
"I stand unsure of what to do, So I'll seek answers first from You. They're sailing ever nearer You, So why their course now do I rue?  
  
"The water shows me things to come, Things most warriors would flee from, And in Time's steady, pulsing drum, I wonder how they'll make it home.  
  
"I will not pray 'May this never be,' For You know so much I can't see, But if I had one request of Thee, Bring them safely home to me.  
  
"In Jesus's Name, Amen."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
On board the ship Mirëar, the mood was far less solemn. Tony and a group of the Regulars had banded together and were dancing around annoying the Elven crew, singing "Sailing for Adventure on the Big Blue Wet Thing" from Jim Henson's "Muppet Treasure Island."  
  
"'Heigh-ho, we'll go Anywhere the wind is blowing; Hoist the sails and SING! Sailing for Adventure on the Big Blue Wet Thing!'"  
  
Tony came in on Jim Hawkins's solo, and a mysterious smile, betraying acute irony, passed across Sivi's lips as she listened.  
  
"'The salty breezes whisper. Who knows what lies ahead? I just know I was born to lead The life my father led.'"  
  
Jeremie's deep baritone took up Long John Silver's lines:  
  
"'The stars will be our compass Wherever we may roam, And our mates will always be Just like a family, And though we may put into port, The sea is always home!'"  
  
Louie the chef mimicked Fozzy Bear humorously well: "'A'right, Mr. Bimbo! I didn't know you had such a good singing voice!... You're welcome!'"  
  
Jesse plunked a pirate hat down over the helmself's eyes. The poor tormented Elf had already been subjected to five different object lessons in American culture. With a noble sigh, he pushed the hat back a little and continued steering due West.  
  
"Lessing 'Cabin Fever!'" Tony exclaimed. "No, we don't sing that one until next week," Sivi quipped.  
  
The boy's attention had already wandered to his mother, who was bent nearly double over the ship's railing.  
  
"Don't fall off, Mama!" he warned.  
  
The poor woman's reply consisted of a convulsive shudder and an unpleasant present for the ocean below. She had cause. The waves, though not far enough inland to cap and form breakers, were of an all too regular frequency and singular amplitude, so that the ship rather rollicked in than rode them. As though to further aggravate the situation, the sun had been uncomfortably hot earlier in the day in just that manner which so aids a roiling gut. With horrible unfairness and an apparent total lack of compassion, Ulmo took great delight in ribbing his ailing mortal companion.  
  
"You, of all people, seasick!" he guffawed.  
  
"Don't laugh at my mommy!" Tony shouted and promptly began beating Ulmo with the foam sword he had been bought from "Dollywood" on his previous Spring Break.  
  
A little further down the deck, John Sallah was leaning against a mast, feeling all too conspicuous and wondering where his friends might be. He was also trying to force himself not to wonder WHO his friends might be, without great or evident success. Rubbing his temples, he prayed,  
  
"Lord — forgive me; I don't know Your Name in this world... I know it's the same You, but it is alright if I call You by the Name You use in our world? I suppose it must be... God, what's going on? Half of me is screaming, this can't be real; a fourth of me is saying, look at the proof; and... and a fourth of me... I think it's yelling, wake up, idiot! I have this sickening feeling those proportions will be shifting very soon."  
  
John paused in thought, and he felt almost sure he heard a gentle Voice prompt,  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Well, I — I'm confused, is all, and I was, well, wondering... wondering... what to believe."  
  
"You believe in God?" the Voice said, with a warmth of tone that was surely a smile.  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"You believe also in Me?" the Voice pressed, still with an understanding patience.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It is enough, is it not?"  
  
"Oh, yes, Lord; I —"  
  
"Shhhhh... Wait."  
  
"Yes, Lord."  
  
"John!"  
  
"Yes, Lord?!" John cried aloud in a panic.  
  
"Did you just call me 'Lord'?" Andy Circus asked incredulously.  
  
"Did I — No! No, I was praying, and you — you startled me, and —"  
  
"Oh, sorry. Do I need to g —"  
  
"No, I'm finished."  
  
The glittering turquoise sea; the wooden deck; the hithlain rigging; their silver sister ship, Ëarmir; all came tumbling into place around John as he refocused on the here and now. Andy noticed that his friend was breathing considerably harder than usual.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Have you ever been praying, and then — you can HEAR Him?" John asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Andy replied reverently.  
  
After a moment, he shuffled his feet and inquired,  
  
"Did He have any commands, you know, not just for you, but for all of us?"  
  
"I think so. He said to wait. We're all confused and worried, but it's enough just to trust Him and wait. You might want to talk to Him in person, though."  
  
"I'll do that," Andy replied.  
  
"So, ah, where's Viggo?" John asked with a half-chuckle.  
  
"I think he's on the other boat. Most of the others are. You and I got on the ship with all these mad Regulars," Andy grinned.  
  
"I was following Orlando, and I think he was following the little redheaded princess," John explained.  
  
"His wife?" Andy said, and there was a thicker underlying query.  
  
Giving the answer he had not wanted to voice, yet in his innermost self (the fourth of him that was yelling 'wake up, idiot!') knew to be true, John returned,  
  
"Yes."  
  
Andy swallowed noticeably hard, battling a fear and an uncertainty that had not yet occurred to John.  
  
"So," and Andy's voice cracked unnaturally, "where's Orlando?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She stared at the stars over the water as the silver ship sailed ever towards the west. The sea mirroring the dark sky made her imagine she was floating out in space, as if she could turn and look back to see the world as a spinning globe.........  
  
"I'm wishing on a star to follow where you are. I'm wishing on a dream to follow what it means. I'm wishing on a star to follow where you are. I'm wishing on a dream to follow what it means. And I wish on all the rainbows that I see. I wish on all the people who really dream. And I'm wishing on tomorrow, praying it'll come........."  
  
As she sang softly to the night, the ocean seemed almost to shimmer, making the mirrored stars dance and spin. Andrea leaned closer to watch them, gasping as they began to shine brighter than those of the true sky. And as she did so, they stopped, once again becoming mere reflections. Puzzled, Andrea stood once again and resumed her song with a shrug of her shoulders.  
  
"I never thought I'd see, a time when you would be so far away from home, so far away from me........."  
  
The stars in the water began to dance again, only this time Andrea continued to sing.  
  
"Just think of all the moments that we spent. I just can't let you go. For me you were meant........."  
  
The swirling pool of starlight was all around her now, and when she turned, she saw the Elven ship sailing over the horizon. The watery starlight now flowed away, back to the calmness it had been, leaving her standing on the surface of the undisturbed ocean. She was still singing.  
  
"And I didn't mean to hurt you but I know that in the game of love you reap what you sow........."  
  
There were images in the water now, ones that were not in the dark air above her. Finally falling silent, she watched the forms below as an empty feeling settled itself in her heart and tears traced salty paths down her cheeks.  
  
There was Legolas, laughing up from the water, as if he were standing over her shoulder and was mirrored there with her. The "her" was not the one that looked down, but was laughing as well. And there were.........  
  
"I keep being told we're married, but you seemed to be doing everything possible to avoid me," Orlando said, startling Andrea from her vision.  
  
Andrea let out a squeak as reality crashed around her again. Orlando gave her a sideways glance, his eyes unreadable.  
  
"Are you as confused as I am, Squee?" Andrea looked at him, shock showing in her widened eyes.  
  
"How.........you remember my-"  
  
"Not really........." Orlando mumbled, feeling guilty at letting the girl down. "But when I see you......... I just think of that name. It is a name isn't it? Your name?"  
  
Andrea nodded sadly, turning to look out at the water again. Orlando moved to stand beside her, leaning his crossed arms against the railing.  
  
"What does it mean?" he asked softly.  
  
"It......... you told me once that I squealed, squeaked and squeezed......... and you called me that ever since." Her eyes seemed to be shining with the sadness he had come to associate with her. Orlando had a hard time picturing her as the happy fangirl type; she seemed too much like a puppy who was often kicked.  
  
"Do you?" he asked. She sighed, letting her head hang so that it almost rested on the top of the ship's railing.  
  
"Not so much now........." was the near silent reply. Though the idea still wouldn't mesh with logic, Orlando couldn't help but believe what he and his friends had been told......... and it had more to do with the sight of the small redhead than the fact that he was now in Middle-Earth.  
  
"Tell me." She looked up. "About you, about us......... about me........." There was a small smile on her lips as she began.  
  
"You saved me. That's how we met. You must have thought I looked sad and pathetic or something like that." Andrea shivered as a cold breeze blew up suddenly.  
  
*'Atar, she is but a child. Surely she could not have come to do harm. Look at her. She is shaking.'*  
  
"And then......... You were the only one who was really nice to me. No offence meant, but a lot of the elves in Mirkwood were really stuck up. Especially Morniwen. I remember wondering why you couldn't see how horribly she treated others, but then, it was always when you weren't looking." She cocked her head to one side, smiling a little. "You were different, though. You treated me like......... like I was a person. When you found out how much I loved painting, you gave me the greatest set of paints."  
  
*She stood, her long copper hair shining in the light of the sunrise, splattered with paint. Her summer forest eyes laughing, and a streak of sky blue paint adorning her small nose, and the hint of rose on her cheeks grew every second as her laughter bubbled over. Her simple gown was most likely ruined from all the smudged paint......... and she was......... beautiful.........*  
  
Orlando blinked at the sudden image, but it faded as Andrea went on.  
  
"That's when the dwarves showed up, the ones from 'The Hobbit.' I actually spilt water on Gloin, though that's not in the book. Your father thought it was funny, even though it made me feel bad. And then.........I left." There was a pause.  
  
"Why?" Orlando asked. Andrea shook her head.  
  
"Morniwen. She told me things, things that hurt. They weren't true, but I had no way of knowing that......... and if they had been true......... I think I would have died of a broken heart. Because......... I loved you. I still do. I........." she stopped, sobbing softly. Gently, Orlando reached out and placed a hand on her back. When she turned and cried into his shoulder, he let her. Because something somewhere inside him was crying as well.  
  
EHAB again! Brownie points to whoever can come up with the reference (book, chapter, verse) from the Bible where Jesus says, "You believe in God. Believe also in Me." I'll give you a hint: it's in the New Testament. ^-^ God bless you and keep you... peeps. ^-^ 


	9. Of Nestings and Keepers

Finally, it is done. Well, this chapter is done. If this was the real end, we'd be in trouble. I want to say thanks to everyone who was so very patient in waiting for this update. I'll be quiet now and let you read it. Pheona  
  
Chapter Nine: Of nestings and Keepers  
  
Quite some time had passed, and Tony had indeed led the Regulars in several rounds of Cabin Fever,' when the two Elven craft came nigh unto the storm. The sun that had seared the path between Eldír's soul and the imminent future hid behind a shifting, rolling, darkling veil of shadow that stretched from the black, boiling ocean into the eternal heavens like a wall. Spears and forked tridents of blue-white lightning split the brewing sky, crackling as fat on a fire. The subsequent thunder crashed, echoing, over the tossing waves.  
"Great," Sivi said darkly, watching the rising storm from her position on the pitching prow.  
"What is it, Las—er, Lady?" John asked gruffly from behind.  
"The Sundering Seas," Gil-galad supplied in a dead tone.  
"Come again, Lad?"  
"The Sundering Seas are the barrier between Ea and Aman, a great storm that denies passage all mortals, and formerly, the Noldorin Exiles," Sivi explained flatly.  
"Don't the elves sail through it all the time?" John demanded.  
"Elves do, but I didn't say Elves, I said mortals, which applies to you and your friends, at least for the moment, as well as most of mine," Sivi replied testily.  
"What about that guy—oh, whatsisname—Earendil?" Orlando queried, having just come up the steps with Andrea, Peggy, and Tony all in tow.  
"I see the storm interrupted family time," John remarked caustically, being in a rather foul mood.  
Orlando shot his friend a half-angry, half-wounded look, but chose not to reply.  
"Earendil had possession of a Silmaril, and we don't," Sivi told them with a sigh.  
"But something else he had, that we do, is Sivi!" Andrea piped up cheerily.  
"Really, it was mostly Ulmo," Sivi said modestly.  
"Is this a part of the Mariner's tale that I have yet to hear?" Gil- galad inquired, gazing at his ever-love with admiration and intrigue plain in his turquoise eyes.  
"It was a lesser quest much earlier in my long life," Sivi smiled ruefully. "It's unimportant."  
"But—"  
"As if on cue, the friends were thrown to the deck as the ship lurched horribly to port. Siobhan, closest to the railing, felt the smack of sea spray across her cheek and brow before the ship righted herself once again. 'You had Osse do that on purpose!' Andrea thought furiously to her friend.  
'If you'd kept your mouth shut, I wouldn't have had to,' Sivi returned just as heatedly.  
'Why? Are they not supposed to know?'  
'No one is!' Sivi fairly snapped.  
'Then why tell me?'  
"Andrea, Tony, are you both alright?" asked Peggy, cutting into the testy mental debate.  
"Yeah, that was fun! Let's do it again!" Tony cried, bouncing up and down in a fairly 'squeeish' maner.  
"No, let's not'" Andrea told him hatefully.  
"What's wrong, Andree?" Tony queried, using his pet name for his favorite (and only) sister.  
"Nothing, sorry. I just have carpet burn—wood burn—whatever. My knees hurt."  
"Aww. Have Legolas kiss it and make it better," Tony suggested innocently.  
Andrea turned as red as Sarah's hair, and Orlando engaged in a sudden fit of heavy coughing.  
"Hey, Tony, let's go see what Ulmo's doing," Peggy said with a mother's bright falsetto excitement.  
Yes! Ulmo!" Tony exclaimed, and bounced happily down the stairs.  
As Peggy passed Andrea, the girl whispered gratefully,  
"Thanks, Mom."  
  
"Bad business, Mr. Frodo," Sam pronounced darkly.  
"I know, Sam; I know," Frodo murmured, gazing morosely at the open door of Bag End.  
"Let me go in and have a look about," Sam offered, and was into the Hobbit hole in a trice on noiseless furry feet.  
It was dark inside, riddled with the kind of shadow that comes when the power goes out during a storm at dusk; a thick grey that is not quite black.  
"'When the power goes out'?" Sam wondered, catching his unconscious thought stream. "What does that mean? O, well, it came out of MY head, so it may well mean nothing at all. My gaffer'd prob'ly say so, anyhow."  
A thick layer of dust lay heavy on everything, and the spiders had been busily plying their trade. Papers were blown about on the floor; paint was peeling; portraits had fallen and broken, so that Sam had to watch his step; and hinges and doorknobs were badly rusted.  
"Hunh, would've thought Lobelia'd keep up with the place, even if she wasn't going to live in it — and why she isn't living here's a mystery to me, when she waited so long to have it from Mr. Frodo," Sam muttered.  
At the sound, there was a dry, dead rustle in the shadows, but Sam, turning, could find nothing to have caused it. An irrational gut fear clutched at the little Hobbit, and he darted down the corridor and outside to his master... but Frodo wasn't there, and Sean awoke in a sweat.  
  
Sivi knew she was going to have a sizable bruise on her hip, and she was resolved to positively bean Ossë when she saw him. She had said for him to ROCK the boat, not CAPSIZE it. She had managed to fall on her side so as not to injure her unborn son, but she was still shaking from the closeness of the thing.  
Sivi was now rather far along, positively round, and absolutely hating it. She was thankful for her child, of course, but Ereinion treating her like glass, her increasingly large, spherical abdomen, and the boy waking up at the oddest hours wanting to kick and play were all about to drive the young Vala mad.  
On a sudden weird inspiration, Sivi tucked her feet under on the bed and sat on her knees, arranging the blankets in around herself like a little cat's bed. She chalked it up as one of those crazy urges pregnant women often got and sat there pontificating. There was a timid knock on the door.  
"Come in," Sivi called before she thought.  
"Sivi?" Andrea murmured, poking her head around the door. "I, uh, just wanted to co — What are you doing?"  
"Nesting," Sivi replied matter-of- factly. "Daddy's eagles do it all the time, so I thought I'd try it out."  
"Oh... Er, is it... comfy? It looks... kinda like it hurts."  
"It does hurt," Sivi commented, and promptly pulled her feet out again. "Our legs aren't built for that."  
"Er, yeah, well, I just came to say I'm sorry about getting mad at you."  
"I'm sorry, too. I didn't tell you not to say anything, and anyway, it wasn't life or death. Ossë wasn't supposed to pitch us quite that hard, and I almost landed on my stomach, so I was scared, and that made me angry. Still, that's no excuse."  
"Sure it is," Andrea protested. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine, and so is Cuiviesul," Sivi smiled.  
"You know I'll never be able to say that. Maybe I can call him Sully."  
"NO."  
A fresh, brisk knock saved the situation. At Sivi's invitation, Gil- galad entered, followed, to Andrea's surprise and slight consternation, by Orlando. The latter smiled self-consciously at Andrea and took an unobtrusive seat on an Elven sea-chest by the beautifully crafted oval window. Gil-galad stood by his wife's shoulder.  
"At the prow," he began solemnly, "we were... interrupted. It seem to me that if you can do anything to bring us safely through this passing then—"  
"I cannot," Sivi answered almost curtly.  
"May I inquire as to what the princess meant when she said—"  
Gil-galad stopped short in the face of his lady's obvious agitation.  
"Do you know the jeweled star set in Andrea's tiara?" Sivi said at length, a strange and terrible coldness entering into her voice.  
"Indeed," her husband returned.  
"Er—give me a minute," Orlando fumbled; "sometimes, if I push myself, I can remember—little things."  
After a pause he continued cautiously, his high brow handsomely furrowed beneath a shower of jet curls,  
"I remember, Andrea carried a gold chain with a star when she—left—"  
He shook his head, and his dark eyes cleared.  
"Not well, Lady."  
"Enough," she answered him. Well enough, for this purpose. It was made by a Maia of Aules for... for my sister."  
Have I met your sister?" Gil-galad inquired curiously, but Andrea's eyes were on the floor.  
"You have not," Sivi said. "She is the only one of the Ainur of Ea to have re-entered the presence of Iluvatar."  
"She left?" Orlando asked innocently.  
"She died," Andrea corrected sepulchrally.  
Both males stared at their wives, unbelieving. The Ainur could die?  
"She loved the Maia Melian as a younger sister," Sivi explained, "so when Melian's daughter Luthien was confronted with Sauron's wolf manifestation, my sister stepped in. She was... never... strong. He sent her from the world, but so spent his spirit in the doing that Luthien was able to conquer him.  
"None of this would have happened," she continued, "if not for the Silmarils. They are dangerous to the fates of Elves and mortals, and these can affect even the Ainur, as you see. That is why the firstborn of each Vala that had children, as there were at that time only three couples who did, was appointed as a keeper, one to each Silmaril, with the charge of returning them to the Valar. If once they succeeded, the light of the Silmarils could be used by Yavanna to remake the Trees, and then the Silmarils themselves would be spent, never to leave any of Iluvatar's children to ruin again. I and Sarah are Keepers, and it was in the capacity of a Keeper that I had the authority to bring Earendil and his Silmaril across the Sundering Seas. My labors are finished, and I bear that authority no longer."  
There was a long and weighted silence. Orlando queried,  
"What about Sarah and—well, whoever the other Keeper is?"  
"The remaining two Silmarils are lost, one to the sea, and one to on abyss of fire. The Valar know that they will not remain thus forever; someday the Keepers will be needed again. For now, however, Sarah builds the strength of her fiery spirit. The final Keeper was but a babe when her charge was laid, and by the time she was old enough to realize it, the need was past."  
"Where is she now? Gil-galad wanted to know.  
"With her mother, she is presently studying Nienna's art," Sivi said guardedly.  
"I suppose the more pressing question would be, how are we to cross the seas?"  
"Ulmo is the Lord of Waters. He has the authority to bring us through mortals or no mortals. We'll be fine," Sivi answered calmly. "However, I must caution you to be absolutely silent about the things I have told you. The lure of the Silmarils is very great. Even the mention of them has been known to drive Men and Elves to lust and subsequent destruction."  
The ship heaved hard to starboard and flung its prow to the sky. There was a sickening moment of weightlessness before the vessel struck the ocean with a jarring smack that made the timbers groan.  
Gil-galad fell to his knees and caught Sivi as she was thrown from the bed, almost certainly saving their baby's life. Andrea tumbled into a heap on the floor, only to find herself nose to nose with Orlando, who gathered her unashamedly to himself, holding her hard.  
"What's happening?" he shouted through a mouthful of flyaway copper hair.  
"This is the Sundering Seas: this is what they do," Sivi cried, only half coherently.  
"Where's Ulmo? He has to make this stop!" Andrea yelled as the ship pitched again, to port this time, sending a great salt wave smashing against the cabin window.  
In a spray of glinting glass and briny water, the window collapsed inward over the heads of Andrea and Orlando.  
"Are you okay?" Andrea panicked as she saw the long, thin line of crimson snaking down Orlando's jaw.  
"Yes. Are you?" he demanded, but Andrea had heard only that "yes."  
She tore herself from his arms and out of the cabin, calling over her shoulder,  
"I have to find Ulmo! He has to fix this!"  
"Squee, NO!" Orlando cried, rushing after her.  
"It is ending, my guardianship of Andrea," Sivi said into the noise of the storm.  
Gil-galad braced her as the vessel hurled itself about, choosing not to question or reply.  
"All will come to a head very soon, and because of the choices I have made, it cannot be easy."  
"What choices?" Gil-galad shouted as the ship nearly rolled over in the water.  
"The choices of solitude and silence," Sivi said, and then the sea flooded in through the window, and she spoke no more.  
  
"SQUEE!" Orlando cried, but he had lost her in the milling mass of Elven sailors and Regulars, the latter coping with the storm in a number of odd ways. After pushing through the crowd for a few moments and finding no trace of Andrea, he grabbed Jesse by the vest and shouted,  
"Where's the princess?"  
"Think she's gone below t'find Lord Ulmo," Jesse returned as loudly.  
As Orlando turned to go below, he saw Andrea climb up out of the second stairwell, further down the deck.  
"SQUEE!" he shouted again.  
She turned but long enough to motion him to follow. He shoved past Adam and Misha, not taking the time to register that the two had lashed themselves to the foremast with what looked like cobwebs. He followed Andrea up the steps to the prow, where Ulmo and Peggy were having a chouted conversation. "Ulmo!" Andrea broke in. "You have to fix this! You have to make it stop!"  
"I'm working on it," Ulmo yelled grouchily, "but there's not all that much I can do about it. There are mortals on these ships, and that's against the Law, and the Law isn't one bit happy about it!"  
"But what's going to happen?" Peggy wanted to know.  
"I don't know yet. I'm going below where there's less noise to talk to Osse and Mandos."  
"Hurry!" Peggy cried out.  
Andrea was no longer listening. The winds screamed and pummeled her, but she did not hear or feel them. The lightning split the dark, but it only served to illuminate her wistful fancy. She sang one melodic phrase in a far away voice:  
"I will not say the day is done, nor bid the stars farewell." Then she removed her tiara from it's corded pouch and clutched it to her breast.  
"For Sivi's sister," she whispered... and the seas were calm.  
  
In the little cabin, Gil-galad gazed out the broken window at the brilliant sunbeams in wonder, but Sivi only lay herself quietly on the bed and told the ceiling,  
"There it is: the beginning of another end." 


	10. In Dreams

Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! I cannot tell you how sorry I am that this has taken so long. Most of the next chapter is already written, however, so it should not take anywhere near the length of time to put out that Chapter Ten has done. We promised that we wouldn't abandon this fic, and we won't! In the meantime, thank everyone for their patience and kind comments. I must now address one of the most recent reviews.

FrodoFan, Phe-chan and I are well aware of the names of the cast (and some of the crew members) of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. However, in order to comply with one of preexisting statutes, all last names have been changed to protect the innocent. If you look closely (with some characters, it's obvious, while with others, not so much so), you will see that our characters' last names generally reflect movies in which their corresponding real-life actors have starred. Thanks and God bless you! - EHAB

Chapter Ten, "In Dreams"

Siobhán stood alone in the center of a mighty ruin and felt the pain lash through her in sheets of fire. Unable to bear it, she fell to her knees. She knew this place. She loved this place. It was secure, unassailable, proud, and strong. It was also destroyed, deserted, and dead. She crawled into the center of the stone porch and curled into a ball, then threw herself from her side onto her back as the paralyzing convulsions came again. Surely she could not survive this. She must join her sister very soon. Her head lolled and thrashed, her eyes trying to follow the lightning leaping from cloud to murky brown cloud. There was a putrid stench in the air that pervaded and overmastered her mind. Where was Ereinion? Where was her father? Mother? Friends? Anyone at all?

"Someone come! I don't want to be alone… Please help me! Please! Don't leave me alone…"

"Everybody's alone."

The voice was soaked in raw pain and bitter resentment.

"You love, you lose, you love again, you lose again, but in the end you ALWAYS. END. UP. ALONE. Everybody's alone."

"No…"

"YES! ALWAYS! And I hate it! And I hate you! Do you understand that? I HATE YOU! You and your stupid hope, that's what got us all into this mess. You should have just let me cry. You should have told me the TRUTH and LET. ME. CRY."

"I love you…"

"Well, I don't love you, not anymore. I'll never love you again."

"Please…"

"Your turn to cry."

The presence and its voice disappeared into the nothingness, and Siobhán screamed. She was suddenly under water, and small white hands were on her throat, pushing her further and further down into the obsidian oblivion. Her mother's starlight was obscured by the smoking clouds and the endless fathoms; her father's eagles could not reach her here.

"GOD, PLEASE SAVE HER!"

"Melui, Melui," Gil-galad cried, taking his wife in his arms and caressing her as she shrieked and sobbed into his shoulder, "Melui, speak to me, what has happened? What is wrong? Please, I'm here; you're not alone anymore. Melui, I love you so much. Please calm down. Please tell me what is wrong."

"Save her… please… not because of me, God, please, not because of me," Sivi wept.

"Melui, who is in danger?"

"I… I… I don't know what to do. It isn't my place… I…"

"Vardamiriel!" Gil-galad shouted desperately, and his wife looked up at him.

Her grey eyes grew slowly wider in a sudden realization.

"I did it again," she whispered.

"I know you are distraught," Gil-galad said gently, "but you aren't making sense. Slow down. Speak clearly. What has happened, my ever-love?"

Sivi licked her lips once and stared at him for a long moment, her eyes still huge and wondering.

"Nothing…" she said at length. "At least, nothing more than a terrible dream."

"What did you see in your dream?" Gil-galad queried.

"I was alone."

"Melui, I don't understand," her husband told her with a troubled sigh.

"You… won't. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

"Melui," Gil-galad protested.

"Dear Ereinion, I'm so sorry," Sivi said softly, tracing the side of his face with her fingers and smoothing one of his golden eyebrows. "This is the place where you can't follow me. I'll try to stop shrieking at night. I know it worries you. You must be happy. Please be happy with me. I think that I have but a little longer."

"What?" Gil-galad breathed in terror. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant. "We have forever together, my love."

"Forever is beyond my comprehension," Siobhán said simply. She lay herself down again with her back toward him so that he could not see her weep.

With a knot in his gut that refused to come undone, Gil-galad watched over her, playing with her russet hair till daybreak. As the slender band of red-golden light on the horizon at last signaled the rising of the sun, he slid back down beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and slept. He could not find her in his dreams.

She was crying. He lay before her on a bed of some sort and could do nothing to halt the flow of her tears he so desperately wished would cease. And yet, even while the salty wet trails made her cheeks sticky and her nose runny and as red as her unkempt hair, she seemed to him a creature of such beauty he could not tear his eyes away. She was rocking herself in the chair beside his bed, whimpering soft words he couldn't make out. Sivi's form entered the room. She tried to comfort her friend, though Andrea only pushed her away with her words.

"It's my fault," she cried over and over again. With each cry she seemed to shatter her own heart. The tears came harder than ever before now. He could stand no more of it. With one massive effort he struggled to rise from the bed, though his chest burned fiercely with the strain.

Orlando shot up, waking from the dream. He brought a hand to his chest only to find there was no pain there at all. The dream broke, its pieces falling out of memory, save for one. It seemed that her face now haunted his every thought, her tears staining his soul with their sadness. Slowly he rose to locate the little red haired girl who haunted his sleep. Self-consciously avoiding the Elf at the tiller, he made his way up to the prow. There he found not Andrea but Andy. The voice-actor was leaning over the rail in an attitude of utter exhaustion.

"Andy… couldn't you get any rest either?"

"Rest? What mean this word, 'rest'?" Andy quipped not altogether pleasantly.

"Sorry, man," Orlando said. "What's keeping you up?"

"The usual psychopathic tendencies," Andy answered, not looking at his friend.

"Ah… I guess I'm just worried about this whole 'wife' thing," Orlando confessed. "I mean, she's probably scarred for life because her own husband doesn't remember her… but I don't know what to do about it."

"I don't know what to do about any of it," Andy said sullenly.

"Andy, are you okay?" Orlando asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm great, man, just great," Andy snapped.

"Okay. Er, is there anything I can — I mean, if you just want me to leave you alone — but if you need me, I'll be happy to —"

"To do what?" Andy demanded. "You and John and Viggo and all the others get to have your fun little identity crises, and if these wackos are right, what do you lose? You get to go back to your ethereal lifestyle as immortal royalty. What about me? What am I gonna become?"

Suddenly it hit Orlando in the face what his companion had been driving at: Gollum.

"No…" he murmured. "Andy, you can't. That's not — I mean — you CAN'T."

"I don't WANT to," Andy said painfully, "but if it's true… if we're all really our characters… do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice," Orlando insisted. "That was the whole point of your character! You always have a choice, no matter what. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. If worst comes to worst, and it's all true, just ask these Valar not to change you back."

"I'd still be him," Andy whispered with a shudder.

"Andy, you're our FRIEND."

"I can't change the past," Andy said in defeat.

"But you can change your future."

"It's too late."

"Andy," Orlando began again, but his friend pulled back from the railing.

"I gotta get some sleep," he said, and walked away.

Orlando sighed into the stillness.

"I hope one of us does."

He leaned his back against the ship's railing and looked over the deck. The helmself was characteristically unruffled by Andy's sudden exit into the lower decks. The ocean to either side of the vessel was rolling smoothly, beautiful in the shell pink dawn. Suddenly, off to the port side, the waters were stirred into a soft whirlpool, and Ulmo emerged and rose onto the deck in a shimmering cascade that did not seem to get anything wet. There was another figure in the man's arms, but the young actor could not make out who it was.

"What say you? Do you forgive me now?" Ulmo questioned playfully, but there was an underlying urgency in his tone.

"I forgive you," said a pretty alto, "but I need time to forget. It may be a while before I can just let everything go back to the way it used to be. You caused us a lot of pain. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," Ulmo replied sadly. "Please believe me; if I had known —"

"You didn't know. I didn't know. They still don't know. You and I have to fix this. Skeletons in mortal closets are ugly enough, but this has the potential to be —"

"I know," Ulmo interrupted. "Let me think about it. I need to pray about what's best for us to do next."

The helmself turned and asked the pair a question that Orlando could not hear.

"No, that's fine," the alto replied. "Anyway, I'm going below to my cabin. Goodnight, Ulmo… what's left of it."

"Goodnight," the Vala answered. The figure, back to Orlando, made her way to one of the staircases before Ulmo added, "Ëarhen — you were never out of my dreams."


End file.
